Constants and Variables
by didsomeonesaybioshock
Summary: Moira wakes up with no memory of her past or identity: just her first name, a white jumpsuit and a crippling fear of the unknown. With the help of a bitter father, a thrill-seeking hacker, a grown frat boy and a sassy Brit, Moira slowly pieces her life back together one painful scar at a time.
1. Chapter 1

"Almost there, Desmond," Rebecca chirped through the earpiece in Desmond's ear, coaxing him as he climbed up the side of the crane. "Once you reach the top of the lit up crane you should be high enough to make the jump."

" _Should?_ " Desmond countered, glancing at the second tall crane towering above from across the rooftop.

"It'll be fine, don't worry." Rebecca assured him.

"Well, you might want to worry a little. I'm pretty sure she was high when she was running the numbers." Shaun's accent drawled through his ears, making Desmond roll his eyes.

"SHAUN!" Rebecca shrieked.

"A joke! It was a joke!" Shaun countered. "Or, was it?"

"Can it, Shaun. I can't focus on climbing with you being a dick in my ear." Desmond muttered. He still couldn't believe he was currently climbing across skyscrapers in Manhattan for a fucking glowing cube. Rebecca claimed it was better than having to deal with security in Abstergo's building, while Shaun reminded him that one false step on one of the beams meant a 100 story fall to his death. Great. Thanks, Shaun.

Despite his crippling fear of splatting across the Manhattan sidewalk, he knew that this was an important mission. Ever since they began to hole up in the Grand Temple, electricity was scarce, and they needed a lot of it in order to power their equipment and the Animus. After some snooping around they discovered that the temple could generate electricity if they found artifacts that powered the four power stations set up around the cave. All four of the artifacts were occupied by Templars, which meant extensive expeditions for Desmond and his team. Not that Desmond really minded. He was happy to get a break from the Animus, even if it meant him climbing around on cranes.

Desmond pulled himself up to the building, jogging over to the lit up crane. He jumped onto the next crane and began to climb, dodging past the light bulbs that lined the metal. His earpiece remained quiet during this portion of the climb, something he cherished. It was rare for him to get a moment of peace to think. He let his mind wander, trying to distract himself from the frightening heights below him. He found himself pondering what was to come after he found the key. _The key._ The key was everything. The key was their ticket to saving the world, to finding what Juno and Minerva and Jupiter have been guiding him to discover since Abstergo had kidnapped him those months ago. By living through Connor's memories, he was coming closer to finding the artifact with each passing day. He just hoped he found it soon enough, before it was too late.

But what if they didn't find it in time? What would end up happening? No one knows exactly what the day brings, only that the Grand Temple is where the First Civilization wants them to be when it does. Would they be safe from whatever danger would be bestowed upon them on that day within the Grand Temple? What danger was coming? Was there even any danger at all?

Before he knew it, he was at the top of the crane, looking down at the tiny buildings below him. He gulped, trying to swallow his fear.

"Jump when you're ready, but wait for my signal to open the chute. Timing is really important here. Too soon or too late, you'll miss the building." Rebecca coached him. He sighed, adjusting the parachute on his back and taking a deep breath. He locked his eyes on the helipad atop the building across the way, where he would be _hopefully_ landing in a few minutes. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. _Just jump, before you bitch out._ He scolded himself, rising from his crouch carefully. He took one last breath and leapt from the crane.

The wind rushed past his face, blowing his hood off in the process. His crippling fear slowly melted away as he got a look at the sights falling around him, the view almost breathtaking. He smiled slightly, the first time he had in a while, and took it all in. It felt like a life time of peace before it was interrupted by Rebecca's shrill voice in his earpiece.

"Now! Open your chute now! DESMOND!" She shouted at him through the earpiece. Desmond hastily reached for the string to the parachute and pulled, releasing the chute behind him. The parachute caught wind and yanked him upwards towards the crane he had just bound from, the sudden force making him groan. His hands rested comfortably on the handles, his breathing calming as he began a comfortable descent towards the helipad.

 _Damn, that was a thrill a minute._ He smiled to himself, enjoying the adrenaline rush he had received during the event. He continued to admire his surroundings, basking in the temporary peace he had with the world. No Templars, no blood, no Animus. Just Desmond. Desmond and the nighttime Manhattan skyline.

He tugged on the handles slightly, steering himself to land comfortably on the rooftop. As he inched closer, he braced for impact, bending his knees slightly and tensing his arms. His feet hit the pavement, sending him tumbling across the asphalt with a grunt. He sat for a moment to catch his breath, finally rising and stripping off the parachute pack, revealing his personal one-shoulder backpack he refused to take off. " _It's got my entire life in it!"_ He recalled explaining to Rebecca, who teased him relentlessly about his obsession with it. _"You're telling me if you could pack the Animus around in a backpack you wouldn't?"_

 _"I'm not saying I wouldn't."_ Rebecca had smiled, raising an eyebrow. _"What's in there, anyway?"_

 _"Personal shit. Piss off."_ Desmond had rolled his eyes.

It was true. The backpack _was_ his life. It held everything he had left. His notebook, which he mainly used to document the strange flashes of the Bleeding Effect he encountered at random times. He never would admit it, but he enjoyed writing poetry, and the notebook contained a few poems he had written between Animus sessions for the past few months, and a few from before his captivity at Abstergo. If Shaun or Rebecca found out, he would be ridiculed to oblivion for the rest of his life. He also kept small mementos inside such as plane tickets or train passes, something he also would never admit on purpose to anyone in his life. His wallet. And, more importantly, his phone. There really wasn't much inside, but he liked to keep it with him because it reminded him of who he was, in case he ever forgot. He also kept it with him just in case the two idiots he called his teammates decided to go snooping in his things. He wouldn't put it past them.

He scanned the rooftop, spotting a fire escape to his left. He jogged over, pulling the heavy door open and gently closing it behind him. He traveled down the narrow staircase and to the entrance of the building. Luckily for Desmond, the power source was located on the top floor, making his infiltration that much easier.

He quietly opened the door and shut it behind him, the hallway before him dark and silent. He crouched and hurried past the office windows around him, even though he was sure the entire building was cleared out. He continued onward, the hallway spilling into a large open lounge area. _Damn Templars._ He though to himself, admiring the darkened plasma TV's mounted over elegant fireplaces and white-leather interior. He glanced around, wishing Rebecca had been able to narrow down which side of the floor the power source was located on. There had to be _hundreds_ of offices on this floor alone. How was he supposed to go through every single one of them?

He heard a shrill scream coming from the corridor on his right, his head snapping up. He retreated behind a couch, readying his hidden blade for the danger that lurked ahead. He kept his ears peeled, listening for the noise again.

"What was that?" Rebecca whispered into his ear, her voice worried yet curious.

"Dunno, came from the right hallway." Desmond whispered quietly.

"Whatever it is, don't stick around to find out." Shaun encouraged him. "Just get the power source and get out of there."

The scream came again. Desmond peered over the arm of the couch, watching for anything that caught his eye. He saw nothing.

"How do we know the power source isn't that way?" Desmond murmured, his voice barely audible. "

"We don't. Just go the other way. I doubt they would put a screaming lunatic next to an artifact." Shaun sassed.

"What if it's a prisoner, just like you?" Rebecca wondered.

The scream came a third time, quieter than before. Desmond rose from his crouch, slowly wandering towards the corridor. He leaned against the wall adjacent to the hallway, listening for the voice again.

 _"Please-just take me to her-please…"_ he heard a female wail, sobs echoing off of the walls. He peeked his head around the corner. _"Sally-I'm sorry-I'm so sorry-"_

Desmond began walking down the hall slowly and cautiously, his back against the wall. There weren't any office windows down this way, making him wonder where this corridor lead to.

"You aren't going down there, are you?" Shaun countered.

"Desmond-" Rebecca began.

"How do we know it isn't down here? Even if it's not, I have to check." He muttered, his eyes peeled.

"Your funeral." Shaun muttered. Desmond wished he could slap him through the ear piece.

The sobs grew louder as Desmond made his way down the hallway. He tiptoed carefully, noticing a faint light up ahead coming from his side of the wall, glowing against the wall opposite. He could make out a dim shadow pacing back and forth frantically. As he got closer, his heart sped up, wondering who the hell could be in the room.

He crept closer and closer until he noticed the wall opening, revealing glass lined with air holes. It reminded him of a cage for a reptile. He peered around the wall and caught a glimpse of a slim figure, still pacing back and forth in front of the dim blow of a small TV monitor that bore Abstergo's logo. He caught a glimpse of the woman's long, dark hair and white jumpsuit. He watched her for a few minutes, debating on his next step of action.

"What is it?" Shaun's voice echoed in his ear, speaking a little louder than he meant to. The girl froze, her head snapping towards him at the sound.

"Who's-who's there? I can hear you, you know!" She loudly whispered, her voice hoarse. Desmond could hear her back up to the wall farthest away from the glass, could hear her panting like a dog.

"Nice going, loud mouth." He grumbled to Shaun angrily, slowly moving from his spot behind the wall. He reached up and pressed the "off" button on his headset. He didn't need the peanut gallery's input while he talked to this chick. He held his hands up in self-defense.

"Who the fuck are you?" The woman asked, fear thick in her voice. She was shaking, he could see her trembling from the soft white glow of the monitor behind her. He caught a glimpse of the shape of her face; heart shaped with defined cheekbones. "Look, I told you, I don't. Know. Anything. Why won't you listen to me?"

"Hey, calm down. I'm not here to hurt you." Desmond murmured, trying to keep his voice down. "Try keeping your voice down, okay? You don't want them coming up here, do you?"

The girl shook her head frantically. "N-no. They're terrible people."

Desmond nodded, knowing exactly how the girl felt. Scared. Helpless. Confused. "My name is Desmond."

"D-Desmond," she repeated, her voice shaky. "I hear them talk about you. I hear them-they don't think I do, they don't _know_ I do…but I hear everything…."

"They talk about me? What do they say?" He smirked, entertained by the thought of him being a hot topic of conversation at Abstergo.

"' _Son of a bitch.' 'Fuck face.' 'Piece of shit.'"_ She named off a few of his nicknames, mimicking a males voice as she did so. Desmond chuckled.

"Figures." He lowered his hands, his nerves calming. This girl was the farthest thing from a threat to him, or to his team. "What's your name?" He asked her, pressing his hand to the glass.

"My-my name?" She was flustered, running her hands through her hair. Her skin caught the light, revealing a dark, thick scar on the top of her hand. Desmond shivered at the thought of what it could be from. "My name-my…my name? What's my name-my name…"

 _If this girl can't even remember her name…_ Desmond thought, his stomach doing summersaults. _What kind of torture were they putting her through?_ "If you can't remember, it's okay. I just wanted to know." He smiled, trying to calm her. "Don't hurt yourself. You're okay."

"M-M-" She began, sounding it out, her memory coming back to her as she did so. "M-Moi-Moira! It's Moira!" He could hear her grin as she spoke, pleased she could remember at least that. He smiled, her temporary happiness rubbing off on him.

"Moira, huh? I like that." He motioned for her to come towards him. "Moira, can you come over here? I want to ask you something."

Moira hesitated slightly, not sure if she should obey the command. But she did anyways, inching forward on her toes, her face slowly taking form as she got closer. She reached the glass, the glow of the monitor helping bring to life her features as Desmond looked down at her.

She couldn't be more than 5'6", her head barely reaching Desmond's shoulders. He tried to suppress a gasp as he took in the blood and cuts lining her cheeks and face, only a few inches of her skin not covered in blood and dirt. In the few clean patches of her face, he could make out dark freckles coating her pale skin. Her deep brown eyes bore into him, like he was an angel emerging from the darkness. The white Abstergo jumpsuit she had on was stained in red metallic blood, various tears and rips lining the fabric. She looked a mess. Yet when she quirked her lips into a small smile, he couldn't help but smile back.

Her hand tentatively raised and pressed against the glass right over where his hand sat. "Who are you?" she whispered.

Desmond smiled slightly, feeling overwhelmed by the bloodied woman standing before him. "That's not important right now." He responded, studying the woman. "What is important is that I find what I'm looking for."

"The power source?" she cocked her head to the side slightly. He was taken aback by her spot-on answer.

"Yeah," he eyed her carefully. How did she guess that the first time? "How did you know that?"

Her eyes widened in realization. "They knew. They knew you would come. Said they would send the man when the time came to fetch you-told him he couldn't kill you-bring you back alive-"

"Who did they say that to?"

"Cross-Cross I think his name is. Cross, Cross, Cross. D-Dan-Daniel?"

"Daniel Cross?" Desmond repeated, the name not ringing any bells. "Who the hell is Daniel Cross?"

"Bad-bad man. Gun-lot's of guns." She nodded frantically, warning him of his threat. "Hurry-hurry, he'll find you. He always does."

Desmond looked around, feeling slightly paranoid. "I want to, but I don't know where the power source is. Do you?"

She stared at him, her eyes glazed over as if she were pondering something. Her face lit up and she nodded. She pointed to his right. "Hallway, that way. Big office. At the end of hall. In glass box." She made a box shape with her hand, trying to demonstrate the object to him. "Glows bright like a lantern."

Desmond smiled at her, patting the glass. "Thank you, Moira." He glanced over his shoulder and back at Moira, "I'm gonna go get this power source, and when I get done, I'm gonna break you out. How does that sound?"

Moira's entire face lit up and she nodded frantically. Desmond was surprised her head didn't fall off. "Please-help me! Get me out! Find power source!" She encouraged him as he sprinted away from the cage. He didn't have time to lose. He had to move fast if this was going to work. He leapt over a white leather couch and sprinted down the hall until he reached the very last door. He pulled it open quickly, letting it shut softly behind him as he entered the office.

The power source sat perched on top of a glass desk, glowing brightly inside of a clear display. _Glowing like a lantern, just like she said._ He smiled to himself, walking to the desk slowly. He looked around for any sign of an alarm, seeing nothing. He shook out his right arm, holding it in front of him before bringing it down onto the casing, the glass shattering loudly. He picked up the cube, admiring it in his hand as he strolled back towards the door.

"That wasn't so bad," Desmond muttered to himself, playing with the power source a little in his palm. He turned and found himself face to face with a blond man in a leather jacket, a pistol stretched out towards Desmond. His eyes widened, holding up his hands in self-defense.

"So, you must be Desmond. Not really what I expected. But I guess your kind doesn't have many options these days." He sneered.

"Who are you?'

"Ask your father. Now give me that."

Desmond looked down at the power source, then back at the man. "I don't think so."

"Look-," the man drawled, inching forward towards him. "I'm not supposed to kill you… but the bossman didn't say anything about fucking. You. Up. So you've got til the count of-"

Desmond didn't wait around for him to continue. He cocked his hand holding the power source back and swung, knocking the man straight onto his back with a _crunch._ The man lay unconscious at his feet. He stared at him for a moment then took off down the hall, not wanting to waste any more time in the building. He leapt over the couches one last time and back down the corridor towards Moira, who was waiting patiently for his return. Her face lit up when she saw him with the power source.

"Y-you got it! Good! Cross-I heard Cross-" she stammered, her palms pressed against the glass.

"That was Cross? Damn. He wasn't too bad." Desmond teased, and she smiled at him. She seemed to be calming down a bit, her stammer episodes subsiding slightly as they spoke. He motioned for her to step back and she obliged, backing up towards the Abstergo monitor. He cocked his power-source wielding hand back one more time and swung at the cage, the glass shattering in the spot he hit. He swung a few more times, the glass eventually giving way and falling around them. A loud alarm sounded, red lights flashing down the hallway. Moira looked around frantically, frightened by the loud noise.

"Alarm-alarm-I'm sorry…I didn't know..." she began, and he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. We're leaving anyway. C'mon!" He reached out his hand and she took it, leading her down the hallway.

"Wait-wait!" she stopped, turning back to the cage and pointing at a shelf out of her reach. He hurried over and felt around the shelf, his hand touching a leather strap of some kind. He pulled on it, revealing a dirty, old-fashion looking black laptop bag. She nodded and pointed to it, then back at herself.

"This is yours?" he guessed, and she smiled. She took it from him and swung it on her back, taking his hand once again.

"You ready?" he smiled at her and she nodded. He pulled her back towards the lounge area, to the staircase and towards her freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond lead a flustered Moira out of the building and down the streets of Manhattan, still holding onto her hand like a small child. She was moving pretty slowly, but he knew she was trying. He could hear her wincing in pain at certain points in their journey and he would turn and look at her.

"You all right?" he would ask her, and she would nod. She didn't complain, which he liked. She was just happy to be out of her prison.

The van was waiting a few blocks away in front of a McDonalds. They probably could have walked the remainder of the way but Desmond didn't want to risk it. If they had a security alarm rigged to her cell she was obviously precious cargo. He wondered who she was and what value she had to Abstergo. He continued to pull her along behind him as he thought.

"Where are we going?" she called breathlessly out to him, more out of interest rather than concern.

"To a van. It's gonna seem really sketchy at first, but I promise I won't rape you." Desmond turned and wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. Her face contorted like she was trying to understand the joke.

"'Sketchy,'" she repeated aloud. "What does that mean?"

"You don't know what 'sketchy' means?" he called back over his shoulder. "Damn, they must have had you in there a long time." He said, almost to himself.

"Like a drawing?" she responded, making him laugh.

"You're pretty funny, you know that?" his lips tugged at the corners, his face actually sore from the four or five times he had smiled that night. His cheeks weren't used to it. They continued down the street and took a sharp right turn as he spotted the backside of the van.

"There it is: our ticket out of this shit hole." He yelled and let go of her hand to jog ahead. She trailed behind, running faster to try and keep up with him. He approached the van, giving the backside two sharp knocks. They heard a _click_ and the doors swung open, revealing an older man with a greying hairline and a permanent scowl on his face. He reached out for Desmond's hand to help him up, eyeing Moira in the process. His eyes narrowed as he sized her up.

"Who the hell is this?" he growled at Desmond, obviously upset he had a plus one with him. Desmond looked back at her and smiled, motioning for her to come forward. She hesitated then obliged, taking Desmond's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her inside. He shut the doors behind her.

"Just drive. I'll explain later." He palmed the wall separating the cab of the van from the back end, signaling the driver to put the van in gear as they started down the road and took a sharp left turn towards the freeway.

Desmond motioned for her to sit down next to him and she did so, sitting as close as she could possibly get to him. The older man sat across from her and watched her precariously.

Desmond could feel the tension in her body, her shoulders hunched up almost to her ears. She clung to the black bag, pressing it firm against her chest and staring ahead at the wall. He chuckled and nudged her. "Hey, it's okay. They're friends." Moira relaxed a little and leaned further into Desmond, relying on him for support.

"So, are you going to tell me who this is? Or just pretend she isn't there?" The man interjected, crossing his arms as he studied Desmond.

"Calm down, Dad." Desmond muttered, Moira noting the resemblance between the two immediately. "This is Moira. Abstergo had her locked up on the same floor as the power source."

"So, you took it upon yourself to break her out? She could be _one of them._ You didn't bother to make sure of that?" Desmond's father scolded him as he stared coldly at Moira.

"She isn't. She's not a threat. I promise." He looked down at Moira and smiled, making her blush and turn away.

"Well, then, what are you? Why did they have you locked up?" Desmond's father spoke to her now as he leaned back in his seat to study her. "Why are you so important to them that they would bother keeping you alive?"

Moira gulped and looked around frantically, rattling her brain for the slightest bit of memory. Everything had been such a blur: all she remembered was waking up and being in that cell. The only reason she knew where the black bag was located was because she had seen one of them put it there then mention how it belonged to her. The next thing she knew they were dragging her out of the cell and putting her in a white room, tying her to a chair and-

"I don't know." She croaked honestly, wiping her nose with her finger. She could feel hot tears stinging her eyes.

"You don't _know?_ Well, you obviously have to know something. They didn't waste their time on you for no reason."

She really didn't know anything. She didn't know where she was, or who she was. Hell, she didn't even know where she had come from. It was as if she had been dead and woke up for the first time in that cell; a forgotten blank canvas lacking any form or structure. It was terrifying. All she had known was the time she had spent in that building with those _awful_ people. A tear raced down her face, causing her to wince as it passed the wounds on her face. "I don't know. I swear-" she choked and stifled a sob. "You have to believe me- I would tell you if I remembered anything…"

"Dad, seriously? C'mon." Desmond wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. She found comfort in being so close to him; the only ally she remembered having in her life. Despite the circumstances she felt safe with him, something that meant a lot to her at this point in time. She pressed her face into her jacket. "She's been through a lot of shit. Don't bug her with that crap."

"I'm just trying to be sure-"

"Cool it, Dad. Let her rest." He leaned down to murmur in her ear. "Get some sleep. I'm sure you could use it. We've got a long drive."

She set her bag down at her feet and sighed, snuggling closer to Desmond's body. She closed her eyes and felt herself drift off, the sounds of the van fading in the background.

Moira awoke to a hand shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open as she came face to face with Desmond, who was smiling at her. "Hey, Moira. We're here." He whispered. She brought her head up from Desmond's shoulder and looked around, confused as to where she was. _Oh, of course._ She remembered, the entire ordeal still mind-boggling to her. _I'm in the back of a van. With strangers._

The doors to the van swung open, a burst of white light illuminating the van. She squinted, the light blinding her. She covered her face with her hand and groaned.

"Turn it off!" she muttered and swatted weakly at the air. Desmond chuckled and rose from his seat.

"Sorry, I can't turn the sun off. But where we're going, there won't be much sunlight anyways." Desmond started towards the end of the van, turning and holding out his hand. "C'mon, you have to meet the rest of the team. I'm sure Rebecca is going to be stoked to have another girl around here."

 _Rebecca?_ Moira looked up at him with squinty eyes, taking his hand and following him out of the van. He jumped down and helped her down behind him. She looked around blindly, the world still a large sheet of bright white.

"You must be Moira!" A female voice shrilled, coming around the passenger side of the van. Moira squinted enough to barely make out the woman's appearance. She had jet-black hair and a pair of-what the hell were those things? Earmuffs? - around her neck. She wore a tight v neck t-shirt and form-fitting cargo pants that clung to her figure. She beamed at her cheerfully. "It's nice to meet you when you aren't screaming in Abstergo's office. I'm Rebecca." She held out her hand and Moira took it, allowing herself to relax a bit. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the light, her squint subsiding and the creases in her facial features smoothing as she spoke.

"Moira." She nodded, shaking her hand. She felt far more rested than before and able to focus on what she was saying. She had been so sleep-deprived and out of it she had a hard time even remembering what she had said back in the prison. "I apologize for whatever I said, or, apparently yelled while I was in there. I didn't realize people were listening."

"I don't blame you. Being locked up in that hell-hole, I would be yelling too." Rebecca nodded. Moira's eyes brightened. "Ah, perfect timing. Now you get to meet the asshole." She nodded behind Moira, making her turn to look at whomever Rebecca was talking to.

"I'll have you know, I am _not_ an asshole," a thick British accent countered, capturing Moira's attention immediately. "At least I didn't-"

The man stopped speaking when Moira turned around. She froze as well, both of them staring at one another in absolute awe. Moira's breath caught in her throat. He was _gorgeous._ He sported a grey sweater with a white collared shirt underneath, paired with dark denim jeans and a pair of tanned leather Dockers. His chestnut hair glistened in the sunlight and his eyes-dear _God,_ his eyes- shone a brilliant crystal blue. His sleeves were rolled up and revealed two _very_ toned forearms. A pair of dark-framed glasses were perched adorably on his nose. He was perfect. Moira's heart raced and her lips parted, drinking him up like a glass of water.

He gulped audibly, feeling extremely flustered. No one had mentioned that the Abstergo prisoner was so exquisite, despite being dressed in a tattered jumper and covered head to toe in blood and soot. He couldn't imagine how alluring she would look when she was _clean…_

He cleared his throat after a moment, finding the courage to speak. "Um. Hi."

She melted at his accent, even more wonderful now that she had a face to put the voice to. She smiled slightly at him and chuckled lightly under her breath. "Hi."

He shifted in his spot and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm, uh-you must be-the screamer?"

Rebecca, who had grabbed a water bottle from the back of the van, spit up her drink, erupting into a fit of laughter. Desmond followed, leaning over with his hands on his knees and busting up. Desmond's father bit his tongue, trying to stifle his laugh and keep his composure. Shaun's face turned beet red and scowled at his fellow teammates. "You are all children, you know that? I didn't mean _that,_ you bloody-"

"It's alright, not the first time I've heard that." Moira shrugged, making the group laugh even harder. Desmond's father, unable to contain himself, began laughing as well. _Damn, where had that fit of sass come from?_ She gave him a wink. "Guess you'll find out for yourself, though, huh?" She teased.

The Brit's face flushed, clearly mortified at his actions. She felt pleased she evoked such a reaction out of the stranger. "Umm, I-"

"I'm Moira." She interrupted, stepping forward and offering her hand. He was all the more charming up close. He looked down at her hand and back up at her, frozen in place. "Do you know how to shake hands? Or should I teach you some manners _after_ I scream for you?" she asked coyly, inducing Desmond and Rebecca to cackle behind her. She raised an eyebrow at him and waited for his next move.

The man took her hand gently, letting his thumb gently caress the dark scar on the skin of her hand. She had no idea where it had come from, but she felt slight pressure on the area where he touched. To her surprise he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her skin, leaving her breathless and just as flustered as he. Her face flushed as giggled. "Shaun. Shaun Hastings." He murmured, letting her hand linger near his lips, his breath ghosting over her hand and making her shiver. "I'm sorry about that, I just got kind of-lost."

Moira blushed and looked away slightly. _This guy has it all, doesn't he?_ "I think I know how you feel." She shot him a coy smile; his fingers still holding his hand steady near his face.

"Alright, you two. I hate to break up this flirt-fest, but we have work to do." Desmond's father interrupted, grabbing Shaun by his collar and yanking him away like a child. He let Moira's hand go reluctantly, never taking his eyes off of her once. She returned the gaze as her laugh lines began to show. "And I still have some questions for our _guest_."

Moira sighed as she watched him turn away, enjoying the way his hips swayed as he moved. A hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality and she twisted her torso to face a very humored Desmond.

"You like what you see, or what?" He teased and held out her black bag. She took it as she felt a blush blossom around her cheeks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She played along. He chuckled.

"Oh, don't play dumb. You _so_ think he's cute." Rebecca chimed in, bumping hips with her. "You want to have little nerd babies with him."

"I've know him for five minutes. And same with you, Rebecca! Is this how you both normally treat strangers?" she teased, letting her eyes wander around the gorgeous scenery. Trees surrounded them, the ground covered in a beautiful green with wildflowers scattered about. She watched a butterfly flutter past as she observed in wonderment. This place was _beautiful._ It felt like an eternity since she had seen the outdoors, let alone sunlight. She wondered how long she had been in that prison.

"We don't get strangers often, so we don't really know how to behave." Rebecca grabbed her arm, leading her towards the opening of a cave directly in front of them. "C'mon, we have to get down there."

Moira stopped in her tracks and resisted Rebecca's pull. "Whoa, whoa. We're going down _there?_ In a _cave_?"  
"It's a long story. But we basically live down here right now. Temporarily, of course. We're not usually squatters." Desmond grabbed her other arm, pulling her along with Rebecca. Moira followed reluctantly while eyeing the cave with distrust.

"What's a squatter?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Jesus, were you born in the 1800's? It's a homeless person!" Desmond turned to roll his eyes at her as they entered the cave. "You're a weird chick, Moira. But I like you."

Moira lips twitched in response, her mind still trained on the cave walls surrounding them. They approached a semi-open stone wall just barely enough room at the bottom for them to crouch underneath. Various carvings, vandalism and cave drawings lined the structure and captured Moira's attention. Rebecca and Desmond let go of both of her hands as they strode in front and leaned underneath the stone. Desmond stayed kneeled under the rock and held out his hand for her to follow.

"You're safe with us down here. I swear." He assured her warmly, his face comforting in the dark, dense structure they currently stood in. She turned back to look at the van, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.


End file.
